I have tried to tell my cat, Kitty, that kitty worship went out in the 390 A.D.’s but he won’t have any of it. After years of living with me, he has trained me to be a slave to his habits and his exacting schedule. Woe am I if I refuse to get out of bed at 4 in the morning to let him out. He will take his claws to my overstuffed rocker and rip it to shreds and then go in the spare room to have a cigarette. I am not sure where he gets his ciggie supply as Sadie and I are non smokers and I really don’t allow smoking in the house. Somehow he manages.
Here he is, the boss of me!
But I have found a way to exact some revenge on my little Felis Catus. Wigs! Oh, yes, wigs for kitties! My niece gave me a book called Glamourpuss and that started the wheels in motion!
Kitties need glamour too!
My name is Madonna but you can call me Madge.
Dude, let's go Wild Hog and zip cross country this summer.
Maybe you remember me, I used to be on a show called Petticoat Junction!